Whose misplaced faith had made them great!
Base hirelings whose ingratitude
Repays with evil every good;
Who, if they had their just deserts,
Would pine at tail of penal carts,
And feel distained with felon’s gore
The lash their sires had borne before;
Say, should such wretches go scot-free,
Enjoy Heaven’s light and liberty;
In mockery of earth and skies,